


All I Hold Dear

by IrisofParadise



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5023168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisofParadise/pseuds/IrisofParadise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Matt dies and Vladimir has to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Hold Dear

**Author's Note:**

> 'Running Up That Hill' by Placebo was the last song to come on while I was writing this and so that is a reference at the end. Because I am trash and it is nearly 3 in the am for me. Not the best because I wrote it at like 1 and I'm half asleep. I blame my bestie for this. She gave me the idea and then we played with it and boom. It happened. I'm so sorry.

Day one.   
  
The bed is cold and it's nearly four in the morning and Matt is still not home. He can't help but worry; Matt was supposed to have come home after work. They were going to eat dinner together before he left to fight the people working for Fisk.   
  
But the black clothes were still on the foot of the bed on Matt's side and it was nearly four in the morning.   
  
Another hour passed and his worry grew even more. He grabbed his phone and shoved his boots on and made his way through the dim streets of Hell's Kitchen.   
  
He finds Matt where Anatoly's body was found.   
  
With blood everywhere.   
  
He can feel his face grow pale as he takes in the sight of Matt covered in blood and bruises. His glasses lay beside him, crushed and covered in dried specks of blood. And he doesn't know when he moved but suddenly his shaking hands are performing CPR on the man's unmoving chest.   
  
There's the fleeting thought of,  _ 'At least my CPR skills are better,'  _ but what he says is, "You wake up! You wake up right now you bastard! You're fine! You breathe right now, mudak!" But Matt doesn't move at all. And finally Vladimir has to admit defeat. Has to take his blood covered hands away from his lover's body.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
VLADIMIR VLADIMIR VLADI-   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"When will you be home?"   
  
An amused grin from the blind man. "Soon. Why?" There's the sound of something sizzling. "Are... Are you cooking?" Matt can't keep the shock from his voice or the grin from his face.   
  
"Da. I make you food tonight before you get punched in face by Fisk's morons."   
  
The blind man laughs at that as he walks out of the building. "That's actually really endearing of you."   
  
The Russian scoffs into his phone. "Whatever."   
  
A laugh and before Matt can think about it he's saying, "Love you too, you dick."   
  
There's a pause from them both then finally a quiet whisper of,  _ "Be safe, mudak." _   
  
Matt turns his head downward to hide his grin from the world. He didn't know Russian but he knew enough to know what Vladimir had said. He pauses before turning to face forward again and says a simple, "Always, Volodya. See you soon."   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Day two.   
  
Vladimir jerks awake and winces as he feels himself drenched in a cold sweat. He reaches over to where he knows Matt is, but instead his hand touches a cold, empty space.   
  
And reality sets in.   
  
Matt's not home.   
  
Matt will never come home again.   
  
Because Matt was dead; killed by Fisk.   
  
Now is as good a time as any to get out of bed, he decides as he glances at his phone and sees the shining numbers indicating that it's just past six in the morning. So he goes to the kitchen where he begins to cook breakfast, a breakfast big enough for two or even three.   
  
He doesn't realize what he's done until he's holding two plates full of food, the one for Matt with more than what's on his plate.   
  
The realization of what he's done almost makes him throw the food away.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
It had been over an hour and Matt still wasn't home. Dinner was ready and set on the tables and Matt was supposed to have been here.   
  
He calls again.   
  
No answer.   
  
So he waits a few minutes more before calling again.   
  
Still no answer.   
  
He sighs and puts the food away. Calls once more.   
  
No answer.   
  
He feels dread make its home in the pit of his stomach. Can't help but feel slight de ja vu because this was what had happened when he lost Anatoly.   
  
Calls and no responses.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Day three.   
  
He had lost his brother.   
  
Had lost his organization. His men.   
  
And now he had lost Matt too.   
  
What had been the worst part was the fact that Matt had been killed not because he was the Devil of Hell's kitchen, and really that title made him snort in dry amusement, but because Fisk knew he was with Vladimir. To make a point to the Russian that he knew he was alive and now he had taken the last thing that was keeping Vladimir sane away.   
  
The thought made Vladimir let out a yell and throw the glass bottle of Matt's cheap beer across the kitchen. He gets a sick pleasure watching as the bottle shatters and the liquid splashes all over the floor.   
  
Can imagine how Matt would scoff and wrinkle his nose with narrowed eyes as he says, "You better clean that up."   
  
The thought makes him fall to the floor and let out a heartbroken cry.   
  
But he wants Matt to continue talking to him.   
  
"Matvey..."   
  
But he doesn't receive an answer.   
  
Because Matt's not really there with him. Matt's six feet under, right next to his father.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
He and Matt both were stubborn and he knows that if Anatoly were to see them together he'd wonder how Vladimir could deal with Matt. But truth be told, Vladimir didn't even know for sure. He and Matt just went well together.   
  
Though they fought all of the time, both verbally and physically. Vladimir never went easy on Matt. Which Matt appreciated. And Matt was blunt and to the point. Which annoyed Vladimir but at the same time he was thankful for it.   
  
He's at the gym with Matt, watching as the blind man is grinning and punching at the bag. He knows that Matt is a fighter, just like his dad was. The lawyer had told him about his father once.   
  
How he still blamed himself for his dad's death.   
  
And Vladimir had shaken him and yelled that it wasn't his fault. The look Matt had given him had nearly broken his heart.   
  
Vladimir can't help but feel like if the brunette were to lose a fight, it would end with the same result as when his dad lost. So he hopes that Matt never loses a fight.   
  
_"Be careful, mudak,"_ he scoffs out, not bothering to explain his words.   
  
Matt just smirks and says a simple, "Always."   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Day four.   
  
As the days progress he drinks more vodka. He had paced himself on the six pack of shitty beer that Matt had kept in the fridge and now there was only one bottle left.   
  
And he couldn't make himself drink it.   
  
He had to save it.   
  
Matt would kill him if he drank the last of his beer again.   
  
The thought crosses his mind before he can censor it. And he lets out a broken sob. Grabs the vodka and drinks quickly. The burn in the back of his throat being the only feeling to his numb body.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
They're in the kitchen cooking dinner. Well, trying to anyway. Vladimir is trying not to add too much seasoning to the food because he knows how easily too much flavor can give Matt a headache.   
  
The blonde turns sharply as he hears Matt let out a soft hiss of pain. The sight of the blood causes him to frown. He goes to the bathroom where he knows Matt keeps a box of bandaids and when he returns he sees Matt holding a red napkin to his finger.  _ "Be careful, mudak," _ he says with a shake of the head as he hands over an unwrapped bandaid.   
  
Matt just grins and wraps his finger in the bandaid, more to humor Vladimir than anything really. "I'm always careful. I just didn't see what I was doing."   
  
The blind man laughs as Vladimir lets out a groan of, "You are not funny!"   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Day five.   
  
Vladimir doesn't want to sleep. He feels like he should wait for Matt to get home. But he knows that Matt won't be coming home. No matter how many times he says it to himself the words mean nothing.   
  
He still hopes.   
  
But he gets into the bed. And tries to sleep.   
  
Hours tick by slowly and he's still lying awake, thoughts of both Matt and Anatoly haunting his thoughts. He's afraid to sleep because he knows he'll dream of them.   
  
And waking up after dreaming of one of them is bad enough, but dreaming of both and then waking up to cold reality is so much worse than torture.   
  
He wonders for a moment if that's what Fisk wanted. For him to be driven mad by dreams of the two people that meant the most to him.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Day six.   
  
He jerks awake with a gasp and lands on the floor with a curse. His legs are tangled up in the blankets and he can almost hear Matt laughing at him, "Klutzy much?"   
  
So he groans and rubs at his face.  _ "You aren't here. I'm dreaming." _   
  
And when he reopens his eyes all he sees is the dim light from the sunrise pouring in through the window.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Vladimir goes to sleep and still dreams of Matt that night. Just like every other night.   
  
And the next morning he wakes up, and Matt is still dead. But he also knows that he'll still continue to dream that Matt's still here with him. Even though he's alone now. Matt and Anatoly are gone, and he's still there.   
  
Alone.   
  


  
~oOo~   
  


  
Day seven.   
  
Today marks the seventh day. The seventh day of when he officially lost everything.   
  
It's been a week. A week since he had last seen Matt's grin. A whole week since he'd last heard Matt speak to him.   
  
He can still remember the words.   
  
Can imagine what Matt looked like; probably grinning because he was a dork.   
  
He had gone through the motions for the past week, clung to every day like a lifeline; kept finding himself waiting every night for Matt. Making extra food for breakfast. Making sure that there was always an extra plate of dinner for when Matt got home from fighting at night.   
  
And now he's at the graveyard where Matt rests, a yellow bouquet of flowers grasped tightly in his hands. And as he touches the cool stone, he can't help but wish that he could make a deal with any God out there to switch places with Matt.   
  
_ "Be safe, mudak." _ __  
  
__ "Always. Be home soon."

 


End file.
